CHAPTER 89: ICE CREAM DATE

The next few days passed in a blur for Alisha. She had barely gotten any sleep, her days consumed with missions to rescue kidnapped hostages.

Awareness campaigns spread like wildfire across nearby cities—banners, posters, and loudspeakers echoing warnings about the new harmful drugs that were saturating the country.

People started gathering in protests, flooding the streets with chants and hand-painted signs. Their voices demanded answers, demanding why such a dangerous drug hadn’t been banned yet, why the government was turning a blind eye while lives were being destroyed.

Alisha knew protests alone weren’t enough. She made sure every speech, every banner about the drug also included information about the kidnappings. People had to see the connections—had to understand that this wasn’t just about drugs. It was about human lives, families torn apart, people disappearing overnight.

And thankfully, the resistance was working. Several hostages had been rescued in coordinated missions. Some of those who had been sold into human trafficking rings were being tracked down through complex networks. Others were already freed and safe, though traumatized. Still, too many remained missing. The work was far from over.

Now, in the dimly lit hideout, Alisha stood over James. He was sprawled unconscious on a cot, his wrists bound, his face battered but not broken. She crossed her arms, staring at him in silence.

James was one of Mr. De Rossi’s closest men. Having him here was nothing short of a jackpot. A man like James would know everything—the inner workings of the syndicate, the secrets that could tear De Rossi’s empire apart.

But so far, he has proven himself stubborn.

James refused to talk. No matter the threats, no matter the intimidation, his lips stayed sealed.

Ryan, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, broke the silence.

"Wouldn’t it be better to just kill him and toss the body somewhere? He’s not giving us anything."

Alisha’s eyes flicked to him, sharp and deliberate. "No," she said firmly. "He may be loyal to that bastard, but loyalty has its limits. If he won’t talk for himself, then we’ll see if he’ll talk for his family."

Ryan tilted his head, interest sparking in his eyes. He immediately understood what she meant.

If James truly loved his family, would he risk their lives to protect a man who wouldn’t even lift a finger to find him?

Before Ryan could respond, he pulled out his phone to make a call. But the moment his eyes fell on the date flashing across his screen, his expression shifted.

"Oh no," he muttered.

Alisha frowned, watching him closely. "What happened?"

"I was supposed to meet someone today," Ryan said quickly, pushing off the wall. He dialed a number, pressing the phone to his ear, pacing. But no one answered. He tried again. And again. Still nothing.

"Who?" Alisha pressed.

"Rico," he said distractedly, already reaching for his car keys.

Cursing under his breath, Ryan gave hasty instructions to one of their men to dig into James’ family and then bolted out of the hideout.

Alisha’s eyes narrowed, following him with suspicion as he left. There was something about the urgency in his movements, the way his shoulders were tense, that made her wonder.

"What are you up to, Ryan?" she whispered under her breath.

**

Ryan reached the ice cream shop in under ten minutes. His eyes immediately scanned the parking lot, but he didn’t see Rico’s car anywhere. He’d memorized the plate number without even meaning to, and now its absence made his chest tighten.

He hurried inside. The shop was alive with noise and laughter—families chatting over sundaes, children shrieking as they tried to balance their cones, the sweet scent of vanilla and chocolate wafting through the air. But Ryan barely noticed. His eyes darted across the crowded tables until they landed on a splash of pink.

Rico.

He sat tucked into a corner booth, his posture slouched. At first glance, he looked like he wanted to disappear into the crowd. But the pink of his hair gave him away.

Ryan strode toward him quickly, heart pounding.

Rico was sulking. He had been waiting for an hour, his phone clutched in his hand, his ice cream half-melted. He had sent texts, made calls—no reply. Each minute that passed had sunk him deeper into disappointment.

’Who was I kidding?’ He thought bitterly, spooning another bite of strawberry ice cream. ’He’s probably straight. Why would he even bother with someone like me? Ice cream at a shop...? Please. I have enough in my fridge to open my own store if I wanted.’

He sighed, shoulders sinking even lower as he licked at his spoon.

"Hi."

The familiar voice startled him. His head snapped up, and there he was.

For a second, Rico froze. He still had strawberry ice cream staining his lips. Ryan’s eyes flicked there, lingered for a heartbeat too long, before finally meeting Rico’s dark gaze.

And suddenly, the world seemed to stop.

They stared at each other, suspended in silence, until Ryan finally broke it.

"I’m sorry I kept you waiting," he said, his voice uncharacteristically soft. "My phone was on silent, and I didn’t hear the vibrations. I swear I wasn’t ignoring you. I just..." He rambled on, words tumbling from his mouth without control.

Rico’s lips curved into a small smile.

"It’s alright," he said lightly, though it was a lie. "I haven’t been waiting long."

Ryan frowned. He could tell Rico was lying, but he didn’t push it. The guilt in his chest only deepened.

"I’m still sorry," he insisted. "Work caught me up. But... do you still have time?"

Rico’s eyes glimmered, and his lips stretched into a genuine smile.

"I still have time."

Relief flooded Ryan’s face. He straightened, offering his hand with an almost boyish grin.

"Let’s go to an amusement park?"

Rico blinked, then nodded eagerly. "Yeah. Let’s go."

**

They left the shop together, but Ryan quickly noticed Rico hadn’t brought his usual car. Instead, he was using another vehicle. So they drove separately, two cars trailing toward the city’s amusement park.

But when they arrived, disappointment hit again. The place was packed. The entrance was crowded with people, the line stretching out the gates. It would take at least two hours just to get in.

Rico bit his lip, sighing as he tucked a lock of pink hair behind his ear.

"Well," he said reluctantly, "I think we’ll have to reschedule."

Ryan shook his head immediately. He wasn’t letting this chance slip.

"No. We don’t need rides to have fun. How about this—we grab some snacks and drinks, and I have my laptop with me. We can find a quiet spot, watch a movie, just the two of us."

Rico’s heart skipped. He blinked, processing Ryan’s words.

It wasn’t flashy. It wasn’t expensive. But it was genuine. Sincere.

And for Rico, who had spent years brushing off shallow advances from wealthy politicians throwing money at him just to get him into their beds, this meant more than any amount of cash.

His lips curved into a smile brighter than the afternoon sun. He nodded vigorously.

"Let’s do that."